


here it's never ending (can't remember when it started)

by starlingscully



Category: Elite (2018), Élite (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Not Canon Compliant, Pining, Post Season 1, Request box is open, Season 1, Slight Adult Language, Songs, confessions of a divine intervention, oneshots, sappy thought pieces
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-07-27 17:36:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16223996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlingscully/pseuds/starlingscully
Summary: He’s used to wanting a lot of things, and always getting them. But this one’s different, he thought. This one he will reluctantly let go. It doesn’t even matter that he wants this the most.After all, Guzmán Nunier is a man of his word.(requested oneshots)





	1. unconsolable

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer:  
> 1) show is not mine  
> 2) yikes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guzmán goes home earlier than usual.

A few months after the incident, Guzmán threw himself into a new project. He decided to make a series of model houses, because he loved houses and felt good at designing them. His room at the west wing was designed like how he wanted it, and at the shy age of 13, his parents immediately recognized his passion for artistic pursuits. He was always right in that matter, something Lu would always admire him for. And back in the day, Marina would ask for his help in making 3D solar system models. 

The makeshift plants in his last model house before classes start were in the color of Marina; the leaves her green eyes, the flowers her fiery, red hair. 

Classes started when he was around making the inside of the house, and when he woke up to dress for the day, he was met with a slight chill. 

The sun barely peaked from the sky, and the pool water was still. He is then reminded that it’s almost the start of winter.

* * *

 

He quickly gets tired from the day, he realizes, as he turns off the engine of his car. 

“Fuck,” he swears. If he won’t walk faster he’s going to be late for class. 

When he reaches the corridor where his classroom was, people were slowly entering the rooms. He spots Nadia among the crowd, and clenches his jaw. He wants to say hello but he remembers his promise. She must’ve felt his presence (or at least he hopes) because she turned her head slightly to his direction. Guzmán starts to walk slowly but he’s intercepted by a wisp of dark perfume.

“ _Hola, mi amor,_ ” Lu greets him. “Did you sleep well?” He is startled by her entrance, but he nods at her.

“Just fine, thanks.” He winces inside as he remembers how lost and drunk he had been months back, ready to jump off a bridge, and how he took advantage of the girl in front of him. The only comfort he can derive from that event was how she took advantage of him as well, as if it was about being even. Lu started going on how stronger they had been after that. Polo patted him on the back, Ander only looked at him. Probably judging. 

No matter. He's in the business of staying away, anyway. 

Lu smiles and takes his hand, leading him to the classroom. Her hand is cold, but in the corner of his eye, he felt Nadia look at them and turn away just like that, and he suddenly felt like he was burning.

* * *

 

He’s used to wanting a lot of things, and always getting them. But this one’s different, he thought. This one, the girl reading at the study lounge, he will reluctantly let go. It doesn’t even matter that he wants this the most. After all, Guzmán Nunier is a man of his word.  

But he sees the slight parting of her lips as she struggles to stay awake, he lingers for a moment before hastily blinking away his perverse thoughts. 

_What the fuck._

He walked away, feet heavier with each step. Nadia had her eyes closed when her head bobbed towards the book. When she jolted awake, there’s a can of cold coffee on her table. 

* * *

Until now, assholes at school still dare look at him with the uncertainty he came to loathe: the look between pity and intimidation. It only used to be the latter before, and he didn’t mind it then. 

He sighs, Marina  _always_ made it difficult for him.

Guzmán would never share to another soul, but on hard days he would bid his friends a good day, change his clothes, and set on a little journey downtown after class until early in the evening. Far, far away from Las Encinas he would walk to a different world and just see something else. 

He’s done it a couple of times. He did it when Marina got sick, did it when his father went to jail, did it when Marina stayed out late. Half the time he was here, Nadia was with him, and maybe that’s why, on a Friday afternoon, he found himself creeping back.

He stood by a newsstand with some guys in the vicinity. The news of Marina’s death were all over the papers. This one particular asshole made a break for it, kept on talking and made his vision go red. Something about the snobby rich girl deserving it, about all of them deserving it, because the less rich fucks there is, the better. These  _scums_  love to say such things, even when they don’t try to live any better, so he punched and kicked until his eyes went back clearer, until the guy’s friends pulled him off and gave him their own share of beating after recognizing him as one of the rich fucks under his hoodie. 

These men wouldn’t give him time to think, and he struggled from their grip as best as he can, with one holding him by the collar. He did, however, recognize the street name which is on the way to Nadia’s home.  

_God, he hoped she_ _d_ _idn’t live in_ _s_ _uch a place._

His knees gave up from a particularly hard blow on his abdomen and felt blood on his lips. Guzmán threw the last jab when he hears it-

“Stop! Stop or I’ll call the police!” 

Guzmán closed his eyes as he slid down the dirty street wall. His savior rushed to him and cursed lowly, “Shit.” 

“Well, hello to you too, Nadia.” He said, drily. She’s in her uniform, he noted wordlessly. 

“We need to get you to the hospital.” She said quickly, her voice calm but her eyes wide in panic.  

“No, no hospital...I don’t want...my mother...” he’s slowly drifting off, but Nadia, as if understanding what he wants, gathered him in her arms as fully as she can without jostling any bad side. She slung his arm over her shoulder and walked towards her house.  

* * *

The first thing he saw when he woke up was a pastel blue ceiling. He started looking around, taking in the room he’s in. The clock on the wall says it’s 8 am in the morning. 

His eyes landed on a beaded curtain. Behind it, Nadia made her way over to him with a bowl of something steaming. She cautiously set it on the table beside the bed. 

“How are you feeling?” She asked. 

“Hurts,” he croaked. He willed for the pain to be only in his head. 

Nadia sat beside him, and he tried to sit up. He touches the bandage on his head and notes his similarly bandaged hand. “How bad is it?” 

“Not so much. Just some minor cuts. I cleaned them all while you were unconscious. You have a bruised rib, but it should be fine in a few days.” She said. 

“How did you do all that?” he asked. He was dumbfounded, utterly confused as to why she even bothered to do all that, after everything. 

She handed him a glass of water. “I volunteer at the local clinic during the summer.” 

He said nothing else, and let Nadia feed him soup. The only other time he was fed soup was when he got sick year back. His mother—

“Shit.”

Nadia stopped. “Why?”

“My parents are probably worried sick. I should give them a call, at least.” he sighed. He couldn’t give them any more problems.

“Where is your phone?” Nadia went over to his clothes, neatly folded on the chair. “I only found your wallet when I changed your clothes. It’s in the zipper of your jacket.”

He let out a grunt, and rolled his head back. Those bastards even stole his phone. Nadia nudged him. He looked at her, and she was giving him her phone. He took the phone gratefully and dialed Polo’s cell, remembering the digits with ease, as they made a pact to remember each other’s phone if one is in trouble.  

Polo answered the phone after two rings. “ _Si_.” 

“Polo. This is Guzmán. Please call my mother and tell her spent the night at your place, and that my phone broke so I had to make you call her.” 

“What happened, Guzmán?” He can hear Carla’s voice from the background.

He looked at Nadia, who was observing him. “I can’t talk right now. I will explain later. Just, please.”

Pause. “Don’t worry about it.”

He gave Nadia back her phone. “I can’t risk my mother tracing the call back to you if I call her directly.”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought about that.” she remarked.

“But thank you, Nadia, and I’m sorry for causing you all this trouble. I should go. Your parents might see me and—“ Nadia put a hand on his chest to stop him, and his first instinct is to hold it against him. 

“My parents aren’t home. They went to my grandma, won’t be back in a day or two.” When she noticed how their hands are joined, she withdrew from him slowly. 

“But still, I shouldn’t be here bothering you.”

“You do that already in school, Guzmán. Yet somehow you end up in my neighborhood beaten to a pulp. I couldn’t possibly leave you there to die,” she said, tone more forceful this time. Once again, it feels as if she’s blown his cover without even meaning to. She’s scaringly good at it, he realized. It’s like she can read through him, even as he rendered himself unpredictable to almost everyone. He doesn’t want to talk, doesn’t want to fuck it all up, but her searching eyes were like a ticking timebomb. 

And he  _was_  like air, never answering her short, sincere messages after Marina’s death. The moment she finally stopped, he waited like an idiot for the next one, and when he realized it was the last, he resigned to this loss with a sharp intake of breath. 

As if realizing she must’ve looked stupid to wait like that, Nadia’s eyes turned cold, like that first day in the pool. “You’re finally done with me, Guzmán.”

He stares hard at her.

_Fuck, no._ _I_ _’m far from done with you. When we’re finally free, away from this shit place, I’ll follow you. I’ll kiss you until our breaths run out. I’ll hold your hand and drive you anywhere you wish to go. I’ll ask you to take me to your temples, and I’ll worship with you in it. I’ll take you again and again if you’ll let me, until you leave me dry in a heap. I’ll make sure you laugh every single day—_

There was a sharp intake of breath, and it wasn’t from him. What was from him was the hand holding her arm. Nadia’s eyes were brimming with unshed tears, and she looked as surprised as he must have felt. 

He must’ve thought all that aloud, because he was out breath. Guzmán swallows, wishing she doesn’t care and thought him stupid. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I made a promise, because I didn’t want you to leave Las Encinas. You deserve to be there. I couldn’t do nothing.” 

It dawns on her, “I told him I will go back without conditions, but I guess I was pushing my luck.” 

At this, he smiles sadly.

* * *

 A week later, Guzmán finishes his last model house, using toothpicks as front porch lamp posts. He presents it to class as his personal project for the term, a tradition brought by Ander’s mother. The new teacher lauds the inside of the house, and asks about it.

“The beaded curtain is a bit out of place, though, don’t you think?” 

Lu agrees. “It feels unnecessary, _corazón_.” Carla elbows her with a pointed look.

He shakes his head and smiles at his work, unperturbed. “No, it’s right where it should be.”

He’s in his element, and for a moment, Guzmán is a happy child. He finds a moment of peace in remembering a time with Marina, and her solar system. He looks up and spots Nadia in her seat writing some notes, but she feels his gaze (he’s sure of it this time) and a small smile graces her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from the X Ambassadors song
> 
> originally a oneshot stand-alone, but decided to make more since the prompts started coming in. thank you for the support and praises! I love you all, really.
> 
> ciao


	2. brainy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guzmán doesn’t like to keep things that aren’t his, but he makes room for a pink hijab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from 91Nicole, thank you for the love! 
> 
> requests at: pxtricixlxrx.tumblr.com

For what it’s worth, it wasn’t in Guzmán’s nature to keep a girl around. Unless it was for sex, then probably.

It’s also not in his nature to keep their things around, which is why it irks him when Lu leaves things in his room after they do it, because it’s all just mess to him. He asked their housekeeper one time to have Lu’s delicates delivered to her house just a month ago. She asked him about it right after, and Guzmán was never the gentle one, so he told her it was becoming a mess in his room. He left out the part where he thought none of it meant anything, because there’s no point in rubbing it in her face. He’s not that unaware.

The thing is, he isn’t a perfect gentleman, despite his mother’s constant reminders to be one. But he also doesn’t have a reputation to keep. He isn’t a womanizer of some sort. He just knows what he wants and what he doesn’t.

And his parents are deliberating college applications in the US. He’s too invested in his personal pursuits of becoming someone important someday, and even with his resources at disposal, he wanted to be focused as much as possible.

Nothing in his life was as interesting as his future, where he’ll probably have more fun.

Well, maybe one.

“Guzmán, breakfast is ready!” He scrambled with the long material of Nadia’s hijab and hastily put it in one of his drawers as he heard his sister’s voice.

“What are you doing back there?” Marina asked, leaning on his doorframe.

 _Fuck, fuck._ “I‘m looking for my tie.” He pretended to be looking around.

Marina raised an arched brow. “You’re wearing one already.”

“Oh.”

At this point, his sister was already looking at him weirdly, but laughed it off. “Are you still drunk? I’ll have Maya pack you some cookies for that hangover.” and she was on her way, probably extra excited for pancakes. Thank god she is too hangover to pry.

Guzmán braced his arms on an open drawer after pretending to be rummaging through it, a pale pink peeking underneath his shirts.

Actually, right after hailing Nadia a cab and drying himself after foolishly getting in the pool with her, he made her a milkshake and fed her a burger he asked Maya, their housekeeper, to buy for him for his late night excursions.

After seeing her off, he went back up the pool for traces of girl he might have to clean up, or else he would not hear the end of it from his Mom, or the end of Marina’s laugh. That’s when Guzmán saw the pink cloth on the bottom of his pool.

The next day, he took it to where his family dry cleans their formalwear. He honestly wasn’t sure if he can just have it washed on the sink. He wasn’t even sure what to do with the hijab, because he wasn’t versed with Nadia’s culture, or Nadia, for that matter. The cloth, the washer said, was made of nothing special.

In any case, Guzmán was baffled at himself too for being too afraid to disrespect. There wasn’t any incentive to it, really. He doubts Nadia will remember leaving anything, given how high she was that night.

And even if she did, it wasn’t as if she would know, like how it wasn’t as if he didn’t just plan on deflowering her and offering her integrity to Lu on a silver plate in exchange for something he already had.

For a moment, that felt sickening, but he shrugged it.

“Guzmán!” It was his mother who called now.

He shook his head to himself, that’s enough time in thinking about this ridiculousness.

* * *

The moment Nadia found out was probably the worst. He tried to patch it up because he believed he was good at that, but even he was starting to feel like an absolute pervert.

“So, you’re saying I should thank you for not going through it?” Her face paints the perfect picture betrayal. Guzmán doesn’t have any right to feel surprised, but he is. It was a plan long abandoned, the moment he denied her at his pool, because it didn’t feel right.

He wasn’t even angry at Lu for ratting him out, he doesn’t care. What he’s angry about was forgetting this one-sided, sinister premise in their relationship, only having it blow up when he started to see how infinitely positive Nadia’s presence is in his life despite her reserved attitude, how her gentle, unrelenting approach is just what he needed.

Even though he knew it was a sinking ship, in panic Guzmán managed to cut a bigger hole on the side.

“You spread your legs for me, Nadia.”

A few minutes later, after trying to wash off the redness on the side of his face, he rushed to the cubicle and emptied his stomach. Guzmán’s eyes were red, and it was the first time he actually felt disgusted at himself. He felt that it’s the only time he couldn’t fix his way out of something, couldn’t offer something to someone to get them to like him.

At the mall with Marina a few days after, he saw a silk scarf priced at around three figures. It was priced in American dollars, and was draped on a golden mannequin’s hand. His glance did not linger so Marina won’t notice, but he came back for it a little later. He’s not hoping to be forgiven, he just thought it looked similar to Nadia’s hijab, and it would look just as good on her.

* * *

Guzmán didn’t even expect her to talk to him after that mess, given how she is and how she seems to be the only unproblematic person in this school. Hell, even he won’t talk to himself after that.

But things seem to always work out for Guzmán, and after half-heartedly expressing this to his mother years back, she only replied, “because you are truly kind, darling”. Still, he couldn’t believe his luck when Nadia smiled at him, for all his dubious intentions and penchant for recklessness.

They were becoming friends, sort of.

But when she even went as far as wearing his gift before first period, well, he started asking how human he can only be at times.

He kept chanting to himself to keep it cool, despite the twinkling of his eyes he’s sure is there, just hidden behind his hangover sunglasses.

And when Nadia told him that he deserves her now, deserves to be her friend, he initially told himself not to believe it, because times are changing and he still doesn’t trust the boys she came to this school with. She’s the only one he’s actually interested in, but despite that, he’s still having a difficult time putting aside his prejudice for the other things in her world.

But by second period, he’s more than hoping, and hopes to see her again before going home.

* * *

He never payed attention to hijabs before, only seeing it in a magazine among other ones his mom has spread out on the marble countertop one afternoon. He looked at a particular page laid out, the silk on the model similar to the one he bought for Nadia. But it’s all the shine, he didn’t know much else, having heard her mother identify 20 or more so kinds of it to her friend one time.

“Anything you like from fashion week, Mommy?” He asked with a smile, liking how his mother light up for things, for no matter what it might be.

“Oh, I haven’t really checked. I just laid them out. I’ll check with my shopper anyhow.”

“Alright. You tell me if they have good button downs.” He grabbed an apple and was ready to go when his mother casually interjected.

“How’s the new kids? The principal and I had a lovely chat, especially about the new girl. Quite promising.” He stopped, dreading where this might lead.

“I got your credit card bill today.” She looked at him and arranged her reading glasses, a knowing look. Oh. Guzmán sometimes can’t believe that he didn’t came out of this woman, knowing him and so.

He pursed his lips and smiled. “Don’t worry, Mommy.” He means it. Perhaps, he already had an inkling as to what she’s thinking. Whatever her reasons were, they were all backed by some experience, maybe. He’s not Marina, though. He’s not as ready for adventure as his sister. Anyway, he felt like he was having too much of it in his own ways, and Nadia was a possibility of a kind respite.

But he won’t tell his mother how much he’s letting himself feel for this girl.

His mother’s eyes softened, as if knowing his son, trusting him like she always did.

* * *

Guzmán wants to blame the timing, as he just came from a heavy emotional encounter with his father and he should be feeling a little pensive about that. But he doesn’t feel like punching a wall anymore, all thanks to the girl walking beside him.

“So you do care for me a little bit, huh?”

She laughed. “Don’t get too excited. We’re just friends.”

He stopped walking, becoming serious about this instead. “I know.”

Guzmán doesn’t know what suddenly made him so brave, but he hopes she wouldn’t think of him as an idiot for laying it out at this time of the day, when Nadia has an exam to think about a whole lot more than anything that came from his mouth.

“I don’t...I don’t want to be your friend.”

Nadia was like him, in a few ways. Like this instance, where she’s not completely unaware of what he might be feeling for her.  
“Well, you’d have to get used to not getting what you want.”

“That’s too bad, because I’ve never wanted something so much.” There are two sides of this, one was telling him to get a grip, the other was telling him to just be honest and have fun with the feeling, because it looks like Nadia is enjoying how he’s looking at her.

Honestly, he does, too.

“I bet I’m not the first girl you’ve said that to.” She quipped, crossing her arms.

“No,” he said. “But you’re the first one with whom I mean it.”

At this, she smiled.

“Yes.” He felt silly, but it doesn’t matter as much when she put her arms around his neck, and he took the time to lean into her touch. She smelled of tangerine and sweet flowers. While at it, he remembered something.

“The reminds me, you left your hijab at the pool.”

She winced and pulled back. “Oh, that night was so embarrassing.”

“It’s alright.” Guzmán said and cleared his throat, suddenly feeling the heat, but he doubted it was from the sun.

“Well, I have to be home by now. Can you keep it for me for awhile?”

Guzmán held her gaze and remembered the things he tried to keep out of his house, of his life, and thought he might make room for this one. “Sure. I’ll see you.”

Before he proceeded to go home and face the complications of his life, he watched her go inside of their shop. He had never been here, but since this term he’d always wind up around the place. His silent appreciation for where fate has led him slightly overpowered the trepidation he felt for the days to come.

As he walked back to the upper side, he knew he would always remember this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from the national’s song, take a listen maybe 
> 
> until the next
> 
> ciao


	3. ride through (maybe one day I'll fly next to you)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: too many jaw clenching, crying, and a very non-canon Nadia

The changes in Nadia life as the next two years flew by were essential, in a way. Looking back, she used to think that she would always stay the same in all aspects of her life. While realizing later on that it was a frivolous idea to hold on to, at the beginning it seemed the only logical way to go. She is still the diligent and responsible student whom her parents adored, but the culture in which Las Encinas exposed her to made her more open to new things, things she would not even consider in her life had she never went there.

One of the best decisions she made in her life was to let Las Encinas change her, shape her in a way that a singular way of living would not. It wasn’t as though she forgot her morals all of a sudden, just like what her father had feared. She retained a sense of peace with what she is now, a different girl, and had learned to respect the ongoing process still happening to her.

It’s all just different when you take into account her time with Guzmán.

She could proudly tell someone that they had something, a connection, a friendship of some sort, all before he lost a bit of himself along the way. But Nadia is not that kind of person. She wasn’t the kind of person to linger on things she couldn’t control. Perhaps Guzmán wanted to let go of the things that almost changed him completely, and now would just remind him of the pain it brought upon their arrival. She was one of those, she lived among those who took Marina, and she took it with a grain of salt. 

Guzmán never said a thing to her afterwards. He went back to hanging around with his usual friends, dating his usual kinds of girls, and maintaining an overall indifference to Nadia and her “working class associates”. But he never frowned upon her existence again, like the way he did the first time he met her. There was never a sneer when she sees his face, but there was no smile either. 

On bad days, Nadia would think about it longer than she usually allows herself to.

She thought about discussing it with Samuel sometimes, but decided against it from the beginning. Samu was too close to the loss as well, and he would act as if he to would not hang out with _himself_ if given the chance.

So for the most part of the next two years, the gang mostly kept to themselves, with the exclusion of Christian, who now seemed closer to Carla than ever. He has grown in ways Nadia couldn’t fathom, but she never pressed him for details. She just caught him a few times, before going with Carla and Carla alone, with eyes as if he had just finished crying.

That summer after Marina’s death was when this all had taken place. It wasn’t a change over night, but wasn’t something that took so long to fall into place. It seemed as if that term, with Nadia and Guzmán almost having something, was _the_ summer, and the days were just all work and quiet after that. But she knew a thing or two about being resilient, that’s for sure.

However, when she catches Guzmán in the hallway or their eyes would meet in a flurry of classroom interaction, in which they would speak no words to each other, Nadia wondered if all collateral damages were worth it.

She would always look away before he would, and it’s probably for a latent fear of rejection, of the fact that when he’s finally the one who turns away, it’s over for good.

Nadia doesn’t think she’s prepared for that.

“So, he explains that like in quantum physics, while the cat could be dead or alive, we would not know for sure until we open the box, and therefore it could just be dead and alive all at once.”

Lu raises her hand for a question, “but of course, the cat is just either, right? We just wouldn’t know until we open the box, or if we study the particle.” Nadia doesn’t understand how she could ask a question even though the concept is simple and she’s sure Lu understood it the first time it was explained.

She huffs. Always the pretentious one. But Nadia lets it slide, because it is the last day of class and she’s running out of reasons to refuse a peaceful dinner at home with Omar and her parents. They would be preparing a special dinner to celebrate her last day at Las Encinas. It would also be the last time she would ever hear Lu’s classroom capriciousness, and a day closer to assuring the top honors award, one that she had secured away from Lu’s hands a long time ago.

“Well, this is your last lecture so I’ll try make it more relatable for you. You are the scientist, and your feelings are the particles. You wonder if your feelings are feelings of love or not, but until you stop and look closely, you could be in love and not all at once.”

The loud shrill of the school bell made itself known, and honestly, nothing could dampen Nadia’s mood.

Not until…

“Ah, class, kindly stay for a little while, Guzmán here has an announcement.” He patted the waiting guy’s shoulder and proceeded to give him the floor.

Guzmán straightened his tie nonchalantly. “My family will be hosting a year-end celebration at The Cuban tonight. Party will start at 9pm. Everyone is invited.” There were hoots and cheers from all sides of the room, and even Guzmán, in his stoic glory, gave a small smile. Lu went to kiss his cheek, and his smile faltered when he caught Nadia staring. As if remembering their little charade, Nadia looked away first, not bothering herself to even consider the invitation, even as Christian tugged at her sleeve every five minutes on the way home, with a small smile.

* * *

“You know, you should go. Ander will be there.” Nadia told his brother, aware of the relationship his brother is having for a year or so, growing stronger every passing day. She passed him the washed dishes for him to dry with a towel.

Omar took the dripping plate gingerly from her hand. “I know. I will go there, but only after 11. I’ll be picking Ander up, he said he has some plans.” With a smile, he glides the towel over the plate’s surface. Nadia couldn’t help but be happy for her brother. Ander and Omar deserve each other. Nadia thought that out of all of them, Ander was their only friend ever since the beginning. Now, he’s the only person in their group who readily smiles at her whenever they pass by each other.

Omar shakes her out of her thoughts. “You too.” 

Nadia shrugs. “I think I’ll stay home for the night.”

“Why? The moon is bright, the weather is lovely enough for a party. Besides, I have something for you.”

At this, Nadia perked up. It’s not always that her brother gets her something. But a lot has changed in the last few years, including her relationship with him. They got closer, and she tells him this.

She finds a cool grey dress at the foot of her bed. At first glance, it looks like every thing else she owns. A closer look made her heart leap, not knowing whether from fascination or horror. The dress has a modest neckline, just right for her taste, but the back of the dress dips a little, emphasized by a crisscross detailing. To make matters worse, it looks like it clings to her form a bit too much. “Omar, this is beautiful, but I cannot possibly wear this.”

“Why not? Ander helped me pick it. He told me you’ll look in it. You’ll be wearing that to the party. Aaaand Mom and Dad won’t know because you’ll be wearing an oversized coat.” They both laughed.

“I just don’t see a reason why I should be there at all.” Omar nods, understanding. He’s actually the only one she told about the whole Guzmán thing, and it was just a few months ago when she finally had the courage to share.

“Well, like you said, you might as well never see each other again. What’s the harm in throwing in a little bone?” 

She scoffed. “He’s not a dog.” Omar was finding her some suitable shoes from their mother’s collection.

He looked at her in jest. “You know what, I once thought he was.” 

* * *

Nadia insisted on going to The Cuban around the time Omar was to meet with Ander. When they reached the bar, Nadia took a moment to appreciate the place. It was a quaint two-floor speakeasy in the middle of the upper and lower district, with brick walls and dim lights. It looked ancient, but once inside, Nadia reveled at the bright neon lights that gave the whole place an entirely different vibe, but it was still more relaxing to be there than to a huge club.

When she entered the establishment, Nadia was met with various faces illuminated by the sparse lighting. Some faces were familiar, some were not. She readjusted the strap of her bag tighter to her shoulder, shyness kicking like a wash of cold beer.

Christian immediately spotted her from his seat at the bar countertop and beckoned her to him with a quick, “Over here!” and she immediately felt more comfortable in an environment she really should be used to by now.

“You’re late, _chica_. Good thing you look pretty or I would’ve been scowling at you.” He hugged her and handed her a freshly-laid drink by a bartender who slightly looked at her before going back to work. “My treat for the valedictorian.”

She smiled and took a gracious sip of the clear liquid and sat on the empty bar stool next to Christian, silently praying that she would be able drink in peace. She’s really not into socializing tonight. For the next half hour, Nadia was content in listening to Christian and the bartender’s conversations, occasionally butting in to tease the former, and laughing at his attempts at wooing some of the ladies that pass by. It wasn’t until the familiar duo, Carla and Polo, went over and dragged Christian upstairs with them, probably planning Allah knows what. He sent her an apologetic smile and made his merry way to his companions, leaving Nadia alone. She turned to scan the room for Samuel, and sighed as she found no trace of him. Nadia sent him a text to inform him of her whereabouts, should he decide to look for her. 

As she was beginning to enjoy the open bar, she started to feel a little tipsy after her third glass.

It wasn’t when a figure emerged beside her that her dizziness abruptly faded.

“What are you doing here?” He said it so casually, sipping his drink right away. But his eyes always betrayed Guzmán. When he laid his glass on the table, she noticed his jaw clenching.

Nadia felt anger rising in her chest, but decided to suppress it, like she always does, but still. He doesn’t talk to her for _years_ , not properly at least, and the first word out of his mouth is an accuse, a testament to his exclusion of her very existence.

However, two can play this game, but she’s not drunk enough for this. Nadia flags down a shot of vodka and downs it before replying, “You said everyone is invited.”

The look on his face is unreadable, and Nadia remembers that it was how he looked at her those few years ago, when he told her he didn’t want to be friends, that he wanted to be something more. Her head throbs at the memory. Guzmán looks away, and Nadia lets other things get the best of her. “You don’t get to tell me to go tonight. Not after doing _that_ all these years.”

Guzmán looks at her, eyes darkening. “I did no such thing.”

He probably wasn’t the kind to admit to his coping mechanism, and she probably could understand. But not tonight. Nadia was not in the mood to argue, not really, she only needed to call him out. And after doing just that, she realized she might survive a lifetime without him, after all.

“Whatever.” She ordered another glass of whatever Christian got her, and started to plant her feet on the ground, preparing to leave Guzmán alone. He probably wanted that, right? He must want her out so bad that he went out of his way of ignoring her just to tell her to leave.

Nadia must be more than tipsy, because her knees wobbled when she tried to stand on her own. Like a reflex, Guzmán caught her with ease, as if he’s been doing it for a long time. “Nadia, you’re drunk.”

The anger is seeping back into her bones. What the fuck. She wriggled her arm from his grasp. “No, I’m fine.” She headed for the comfort room, eager to just be somewhere he couldn’t reach her.

She wanted to be alone, just like the way he let her. She heard him curse under his breath and she walked faster.

By the time she reaches the comfort room, she had to dash to the nearest cubicle to empty the contents of her stomach down the toilet. Nadia presses her left hand on the wall, her right clutching her stomach helplessly as she heaved.

She didn’t know how she ended up sitting in the corner, tendrils of hair clinging to her forehead, but Nadia vaguely remembers the door being yanked open, her head pounding as she was being lifted off the ground, and the faint smell of clean sheets and pine cones before passing out in pitch black darkness.

* * *

The first thing she does upon waking up is to check is she had been raped. 

Her clothes were different, but she doesn’t feel any ache in her body apart from the usual effects of having drank too much the night before. It’s sickening, but that’s the way she learned damage control, especially after May, and Nadia became so numb after everything that she was just glad she wasn’t dead.

She looked around, finally landing on the tinted glass window, finding the view to be a tad bit familiar. She sees her phone on the bedside table, having no recollection of ever putting it there, or any details after going to the restroom the night before. With heavy arms she picks up her phone, wrapping the duvet closer to her body, and checks for any messages.

 **Omar [5:21 am]:** Figured you weren’t going home. I told Mom and Dad you were sleeping over at Samu’s. Text me where you are.

She put the phone down and stares blankly at the cream-colored wall. It quickly dawns on Nadia where she is. There had been so many nights where she would wake up in a similar state, but it’s the first time she’s been here, in this very room.

There had been many changes in Nadia’s life, but waking up here is one which she hadn’t anticipated, much less at this state. She suddenly felt the urge to cry, feeling messier than ever, having ended up here, the source of her pain.

She started to choke a sob, and when the door opens, revealing Guzmán with a tray of what seemed like breakfast, Nadia finally let sobs wrack her body.

Everything is so amplified. Her body hurts, as if she ran kilometers. Guzmán doesn’t say anything, and Nadia refused to look at him, to find him looking at her like anything. She didn’t want to be here.

He hands her a glass of water, and takes it after what seemed to be like hours of crying. Damn if he held his hand to her for too long. He should be able to feel how tired she was from her helpless crying. When Nadia finally looks up to him, eyes red, she finds his eyes looking at her softly. Even at this state, she found herself studying his expression. 

She finds nothing but _soft_ , and it makes tears fall from her eyes.

She reckoned that she deserved to be treated like this, to be cared for like this, but Guzmán doesn’t deserve to be the one to do that. Not anymore.

“Why?” she croaks out. It’s a loaded question, but she knew him enough to know that he understood. 

He blinks, looks away for a moment, trains his eyes away. “You know why.”

“Say it.”

“Nadia—“

“Say it.”

It’s funny how she can feel all things at once, and how quickly her emotions can shift from being heartbroken to feeling like the one breaking the heart.

His eyes are on her, and they regard each other for a moment before she heard his sharp intake of breath. “I can’t…I’m still not me. I’m still at loss, Nadia. But there was never a time that I—”He exhales, a weight that’s just as heavy as her own, probably heavier. “That I never wished for your safety, your happiness, your _freedom_.”

She closes her eyes. “Then why does it feel like this?”

Nadia felt robbed of everything he had just said. He didn’t know that he was the one who let her in on her first taste of safety, happiness, and freedom, and it was unfair for him to just leave her. She could understand his own tragedies, but she couldn’t help but feel like something unfair happened, that she feels sadness when she doesn’t know what she did to deserve that.

Nadia still wondered if collateral damages are worth it.

She opens her eyes to Guzmán sitting on the bed, _his_ _bed_ , a fair amount of distance between them. His hands clasped together in front of him. “I don’t know. I’m sorry, Nadia.”

A part of her didn’t want to hear him say he’s sorry, that whatever happened was out of his control, even his own actions, fueled by emotions brought about by tragic occurrences in his life. The life he’s leading is full of grief, and Nadia felt guilty to be even asking him these questions, demanding apologies from him.

Her tears eventually stop, and her reply sums up all understanding and affection she never not allowed herself to have for him. “Me too.”

“You don’t have to suffer this, you know.” _He knows._

“It’s a bit late for that, I’m afraid.” He chuckles lightly. For a few moments, they sit in silence, mulling over the few words they shared, or will ever. She thought if it would always be like this with him and her.

He turns to her. “I’m unsure of everything right now. I don’t even know it could ever be just us again. But,” he looks at her lips for a brief moment, and her chest is too small of a cage for her heart. “there’s only been you. For me.”

She leans in, and like a reflex, he catches her. To Guzman’s surprise, she was just as hungry to kiss, and as eager to touch. She even put her arms around his neck, and at that moment he knew she would always find new ways to surprise him.

Some things are just meant to happen, no matter how long you try to stop it. It stirs something inside Guzman, that while he continued to live in careful coexistence with her, the fire that she started in his world will probably never die.

* * *

Nadia learns that only a few of her classmates are joining her to the US for college. Even without the scholarship, their international-standard curriculum at Las Encinas and trust funds assured an education just as golden as what they had been promised.

Guzmán was one of them.

Nadia, with her scholarship waiting for her at Princeton, was a beacon of hope for her whole family. It’s easier to breathe in her hometown, now that she’s finally going somewhere to be someone for real. She wants nothing more but to focus and be happy and be _free._

A few days before her departure, Ander drops off a care package for Omar – who’s on his way to a state university in Barcelona – and a letter for Nadia, and before she could ask what it is, her brother’s boyfriend is out the door with a small smile.

There’s no reason for Ander to write to her, and she tries not to hope that it is from who she thinks it is but it’s just too— 

It’s just a few words on a simple, white paper. The handwriting is as messy as she remembers. There’s a phone number with an American area code, and an address near Penn. Below all that is a note, and she smiles.

_Let me know if we can be just us again._

Omar nudges her, curious at the light in her eyes. She shrugs, slips the note in her hand carry purse, and continues packing for her flight. She hugs her family as time with them trickles down, tighter each time she does it. She is truly going to miss them.

She still feels reluctant at hoping, but Nadia starts to believe it’s not as hopeless as before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from Coldplay's O
> 
> ciao


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